McKeller Flash Fiction Stories
by Artemis Zerc
Summary: In "Better Off", drinking buddies Rodney and Jennifer contemplate severing romantic ties with their respective partners, Katie and Ronon. Previous installments include: The World's Worst Pickup Line, Thirsty?, and A Close One.
1. A Close One Part 1

**A response to the McKeller Flash Fiction challenge posed by Koinekid and Dani Wilder. 294 words.**

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**A Close One**

Karl Keller fidgeted at the steady stream of passengers pouring from the gate. A short man, Karl had to stand on tiptoes to scope out the crowd. His eyes moved past the businessmen and vacationers and settled unbidden on a tall man sporting heavy dreadlocks and a thick beard. Everything about him exuded "Alpha Male," a type Karl instinctively distrusted, and one he hoped his beloved daughter had sense enough to avoid.

"Where are you, Jennifer?" he wondered. Then he spotted her exiting the gate. His heart sank as she gripped the alpha's arm, who smiled and patted her small hand.

Karl was too far away to hear their conversation, but the implication was clear. His darling had been hoodwinked by a love-em-and-leave-em Lothario. Working closely with the Air Force, surrounded by their type, it was bound to happen.

Karl wanted to storm over and deck the man, but one look at Jennifer's eyes and the happiness there stayed his fist. He breathed deeply and resigned himself to making nice with the man bedding his baby girl.

Then a miracle happened. The alpha walked away, and another man strode up beside Jennifer. The cross expression covering his face suggested annoyance that she'd wasted so much attention on the other. Karl recognized the expression. It had graced his own face whenever another man spoke to his darling wife.

The man's cross expression melted into one of bliss as Jennifer gave him a kiss and laid her head against his shoulder. Karl recognized that expression too.

He took in the man at a glance, noting with approval his slight paunch, short hair and clean shaven face. He was stable. More importantly, Jennifer looked incredibly happy on his arm.

Karl grinned. This guy he could work with.

**End**


	2. Thirsty?

MGM owns SGA.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**Thirsty?**

After awhile it became something of a game—Jennifer, sitting alone at the end of the bar, sipping a tall mug of Guinness and rejecting every attempt to buy her another. Rodney could tell she was annoyed at first, but after the fifth suitor, her demeanor changed. She began to smile and flirt back as she let each man down easy.

The stool beside her seldom stayed vacant, as a steady stream of men vied for a chance to probe the mystery of the evening. _Who was Jennifer Keller waiting for?_ A few girls even joined in. Rodney recognized Alicia Vega and Dusty Mehra. Jennifer pretended to think over Alicia's offer the longest. At least Rodney assumed it was a pretense. For all he knew, Jennifer _might_ prefer women.

No one was hitting on Jennifer anymore as the rules had become apparent. Each suitor would be allowed one question after his inevitable brush-off.

"Buy you a drink?" asked Chuck, the gate technician.

"No thanks," Jennifer replied. "I'm waiting for someone."

Chuck scratched his chin. "Your mystery man, is he tall?"

"Taller than me."

"Is he...?"

She wagged a finger and spoke no further until the tech was replaced.

"Is he handsome?" That was Dusty back for seconds.

Jennifer winked. "You know it."

Dusty pressed, "Is he a soldier?"

Protests over Dusty's rule-breaking were silenced by Jennifer's raised hand. Rodney had anticipated this question with dread. A yes would take him out of the running.

Jennifer raised her glass for a slow sip, milking the moment for all its worth. "Not exactly," she said.

Rodney was puzzled until the door opened and in walked Ronon Dex—Ronon, who had no military commission but was easily the match of any soldier on base. Not exactly, indeed.

Rodney wished he'd left when the game started, but having stayed for its entirety, he might as well go for the win. Taking the stool beside Jennifer, he said, "Is it—?"

"There you are, Rodney," Jennifer said. "Can I buy you a drink?"

**End**

The word count is 335. If Dusty can break a rule for the sake of Rodney and Jennifer, so can I.


	3. The World's Worst Pickup Line Part 1

MGM owns SGA.

The following story is set in season 3 shortly after Jennifer Keller arrives on Atlantis and before her promotion to Head of Medicine. 300 words exactly.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**The World's Worst Pickup Line**

**Part 1**

Rodney McKay would be the first to admit that his affection for Katie Brown never ran deeply. Before the botanist approached him with a dinner invitation, he couldn't have picked her out of a lineup. Work and his own trepidation delayed their date until it was either put up or shut up. As odd as that night turned out to be, he thought it had put them on solid footing. Then he asked her out again.

She'd laughed in his face. Apparently, ignoring a woman for months after you kissed her was considered insulting. Who knew?

John Sheppard—that's who. And in a move McKay was increasingly regretting, he'd accepted the colonel's offer to be his wingman. Beers in hand, the two swinging bachelors worked the base nightclub. The results: Sheppard with six prospects and a tongue-tied McKay destined to spend the night—and likely the rest of his life—alone.

He was ready to call it a night when he spotted a young woman sitting at the bar. Her hair was golden blond, her skin pale and freckled, her smile beguiling. More importantly, the stool next to her was unoccupied. McKay turned in her direction.

A hand seized his shoulder. Sheppard pointed the lip of his beer bottle at the blond. "Cute, huh?"

Meeting Sheppard's smirking face, McKay nodded.

"You gonna try?"

McKay slumped. "What's the use?"

"Lesson number five, Rodney: Let a moment slip away, and it's gone for good." Sheppard carefully folded a crease into a cocktail napkin. "Watch the master at work."

Crossing the floor, he took the stool next to the blond and handed over the napkin.

McKay edged closer. He missed Sheppard's delivery but heard the blond burst into laughter.

_Score one more for John Sheppard,_ he thought and glumly stalked away.

**TBC**


	4. The World's Worst Pickup Line Part 2

MGM owns SGA.

Part 2 is 400 words exactly.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**The World's Worst Pickup Line**

**Part 2**

The professors at Harvard called it "naturalistic observation", while Uncle George called it "people watching" and told her the best place for it was at a bar. "People are always more candid, little Jenny, when alcohol is involved."

Jennifer Keller agreed, which was why she was spending her first Friday night on Atlantis not studying procedures, nor familiarizing herself with new equipment, but having drinks with a couple of giggly nurses. Already, she regretted it. The last thing she needed was to be lumped in with the base bimbos. She'd decided to call it a night when curiosity got the better of her.

She leaned over to one of the chatterboxes and asked, "Who's that?"

The nurse smiled knowingly. "Cute, isn't he?"

Jennifer blushed. "Sure, but—"

"Don't bother. That's Colonel Sheppard, easy on the eyes, hard on the heart."

Jennifer started to protest that her interest was only clinical when the second nurse interjected, "_Major Lorne_ is the dreamy one."

"Which one's Lorne?" Jennifer asked.

"He isn't here tonight." The nurse stuck out her bottom lip. "If he were, you'd know. The hallelujah chorus would be playing."

The first nurse clucked her tongue. "This one's had too much to drink. Let's get you home, dear."

"Do you need a hand?" Jennifer started to rise.

The nurse waved her off. "Stay. Have another round on me."

Jennifer did just that, settling back to watch ol' hard-on-the-heart Sheppard hit on everything that moved. _Classic overcompensation,_ she decided. Nurses' warnings aside, she knew to stay away.

After a while, Sheppard's wingman abandoned the chase and skulked off to sip his beer alone. He looked miserable, and Jennifer felt for him. Several times she resolved to, then talked herself out of, going over to introduce herself. If only the nurses had stayed long enough to give her the lowdown. He was kind of cute.

When he looked up, she found herself staring into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. _Oh, wow._ Make that _very_ cute. She couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face. Just like she couldn't keep from laughing at Sheppard's lame pickup line a few minutes later.

The colonel's voice broke through her laughter. "Could I buy you a drink?"

She smiled coyly. "There's a condition."

"What's that?"

"Tell me about your friend."

**TBC**


	5. The World's Worst Pickup Line Part 3

MGM owns SGA.

Part 3 is 400 words exactly.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**The World's Worst Pickup Line**

**Part 3**

To John Sheppard the barroom was a battlefield, and his dating lessons combat training. Lesson one: First impressions are key. Lesson two: Dating is a numbers game. Lesson three: Confidence breeds success. Lesson four: Outperform the competition. But this was no one-day seminar to success. Basic training took weeks not hours. You don't send recruits into battle without a commander, and you don't release a socially inept nerd into the dating pool alone.

That's why Sheppard pulled McKay back when he started toward the blond. As despondent as he was, he was in no condition to wage war against so formidable a foe. She'd have eaten him alive.

At least Sheppard had assumed so. Sitting next to the blond, he wondered if he'd made a tactical error. "You're interested in Rodney?"

She nodded slowly. "If Rodney is the guy with blue eyes and the really expressive face."

Sheppard needed to revise his tactics. He signaled for the bartender to fetch them two bottles.

"Not that you aren't cute," the blond added. "Obviously, you are. Cute and charming. It's just that I'm generally attracted to more reserved guys. My loss, I'm sure."

A grin exploded across Sheppard's face.

The blond furrowed her brow. "What?"

The nervous chatter, the self-effacing humor—this girl was right up McKay's alley. The two might have hit it off if only Sheppard hadn't interfered. Time for a strategic withdrawal.

As soon as the bartender laid out the beers, Sheppard snatched his up. "Wait right here. I'll send Rodney over." At his urging they clinked bottles to seal the deal.

He found a sullen McKay drowning his sorrows at a nearby table. "Get another entry for your little black book?" the scientist snapped.

"Nope. Crashed and burned." Sheppard was annoyed at his friend's sudden gleeful smirk but decided to give him a pass. "Seems I'm not her type."

McKay snorted. "She looked fairly intelligent, so I'm not surprised."

Sheppard took a deep breath. "One more crack like that, and you're on your own."

"Haven't I been?"

"McKay, I'm trying to tell you that there's a cute girl on that bar stool who's very interested in meeting you. Now get off your lazy butt and—"

"Where? I don't see anyone."

"Right back...there?" Sheppard turned around, but the stool was empty. The blond was gone.

**TBC**


	6. The World's Worst Pickup Line Part 4

MGM owns SGA.

Part 4 is 425 words.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**The World's Worst Pickup Line**

**Part 4**

The sound of a throat clearing made Rodney jump. He turned to find the blond from the bar standing beside him. She could barely suppress a grin.

"Excuse me, sir? I was hoping you could answer a question for me." She set her beer on the table. Reaching into her pocket, she produced a cocktail napkin folded in half. "Does this smell like chloroform to you?"

Rodney blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Does _this_...?" She placed the napkin in his palm and closed his fingers around it. "...smell like chloroform?"

He still didn't get it.

"See, if I trick you into sniffing chloroform, you'll pass out and be at my mercy." She sighed. "It's supposed to be a pickup line, but I guess maybe it only works on girls."

"Oh? Do you hit on a lot of girls?"

"No!" Color stained her cheeks. "Let's start over. Hi, I'm Jennifer."

"Rodney." When he fell silent, Sheppard kicked him beneath the table.

"Ow. Oh." Rodney extended a hand. "Sorry if I embarrassed you. It's a good line, and clever now that I think about it."

"I wish I could take credit since you're obviously _so_ impressed, but your friend actually tried it out on me."

"My _friend_, eh?" He glared at Sheppard, whose shoulders shook with mirth.

"Wasn't the plan for me to send Rodney over to you, _Jennifer_?"

She shrugged. "I lost patience. Besides, I'm not too good at following orders, _Colonel_."

"On that note." Sheppard scooted his chair away from the table and offered it to Jennifer. He smirked at Rodney. "Lesson six, genius: be polite. Ask the lady to sit."

* * *

Sheppard released a low whistle. "Simply amazing."

From across the room he watched Rodney and Jennifer lean forward and share another kiss. It was fairly tame as kisses go, a simple peck and blush. Sheppard himself had shared far more intense osculations that very evening with the redhead hanging on his arm. But somehow he sensed that his friend had the better deal.

"Johnny," the redhead whined. "Pay attention to me." She thrust out her chest provocatively.

Sheppard smiled. _Then again._

He spared a final glance at the scientist and his new lady friend. If Rodney fell back on old habits, he'd avoid Jennifer for months after tonight. Lucky for him, he had Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard to ride his ass until he followed up. After all, what else were friends—and team leaders—for?

**END**


	7. A Close One Part 2

MGM owns SGA.

This entry is 550 words. Happy Thanksgiving, Americans and Leidenaren.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**A Close One **

**Part 2**

Molly, the Kellers' golden retriever, laid her head in Rodney's lap. He scratched the dog behind her ears just like Jennifer taught him.

"Looks like snow, eh, girl?"

Her leg kicked rapidly against the porch in affirmation.

"At least _you_ brought your own coat."

The airline had lost Rodney's bag, forcing him to borrow a coat from Jennifer's dad. Karl Keller was shorter than Rodney but stouter, and the coat hung on him like a shroud. For the first time in decades Rodney felt like a boy trying on his father's clothing.

The storm door squeaked on its hinges, and the blond beauty who had stolen his heart emerged to take her place beside him on the porch swing.

"Molly's sure taken to you," Jennifer said.

Rodney draped an arm around her shoulders. "You Keller women seem prone to that."

"Then I'll have to keep you away from my cousins."

They fell into a prolonged kiss. It was the most physical contact they'd had since the airport, and he relished it. Despite Jennifer's insistence that Karl wouldn't mind, Rodney felt too awkward to initiate anything in front of her dad.

Molly's whimper ended the moment.

"I think someone's jealous." Jennifer laughed and ruffled the dog's fur. "Don't worry, Moll. I won't steal your fella."

The door squeaked again, and Karl stuck his head outside. "Rodney, whenever you can spare a moment, I'd like to speak with you." His gaze shifted to Jennifer. "Why don't you take Molly for her walk before the snow starts?"

"Sure thing, Dad."

When the door shut behind Karl, Rodney groaned. "It was nice knowing you, Jennifer."

"Stop that." She squeezed his knee. "He likes you. He just wants to get to know you."

"I don't exactly have a good track record with parents."

"Asked a lot of fathers for their daughter's hands, have you?"

"No, you're the first and last, but..." Rodney's eyes bugged. "Hold on, no one said anything about asking for your hand. Not that the thought hasn't crossed my mind."

Jennifer stood and pulled him to his feet. "Go make nice with Dad, then you can use what I found at the bottom of your sock drawer."

Rodney grunted. "Unbelievable. You were snooping?"

"Nope. Stumbled across it when I went to borrow a couple of pairs of wool socks for the trip." She kissed his cheek. "If it's any comfort, I'm pretty sure I'll say yes."

Rodney nodded toward the house. "Does he know?"

"No. But I've done everything I can to whet the wheel. I told him about all the times you saved my life, talked up your scientific achievements." She poked him in the chest. "Even employed subterfuge."

Rodney eyed her suspiciously. "How?"

Her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. "Why do you think I walked _Ronon_ off the plane?"

Light dawned, and Rodney's jaw dropped.

Jennifer grinned. "Scare dad with a dreadlocked decoy, and you're an even bigger catch by comparison."

"You devious minx." He crushed his lips against hers. "I'll have to keep my eye on you."

"That," she said, "had better be a promise."

**END**


	8. A Close One Part 3

MGM owns SGA.

This installment is 475 words.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**A Close One **

**Part 3**

A light dusting of snow had blanketed the yard by the time Rodney caught up with Jennifer. The couple greeted one another with a kiss, and Molly the golden retriever barked her approval.

Rodney patted the canine's head. "I take it she's over her jealousy?"

"We've reached a compromise." Jennifer nodded. "I get you during the week, she has weekends, and we alternate holidays."

Interlacing his fingers with hers, Rodney joined the ladies on their walk around the yard. A sociable silence fell over the group. Even Molly kept quiet save for the occasional whine when she thought she spotted a squirrel. When the suspense became unbearable, Jennifer asked, "How did it go?"

Rodney released a breath, which the cool air condensed into a visible plume. "Surprisingly well. Your dad just wanted to make sure my intentions were honorable."

Jennifer nudged him. "Are they?"

He raised their clasped hands to his lips. "I think you know the answer to that."

Normally such a comment would have made her blush, but the cold had already pinkened her nose and cheeks. "Maybe we ought to go inside," Rodney suggested.

"Not yet. We're almost there."

Jennifer guided him toward the edge of the property. There, stood a large maple tree with a misshapen heart carved into the trunk. Upon closer inspection Rodney spotted two pairs of initials within: JK and PM.

"Patrick Moon," Jennifer explained. "My first boyfriend. We were eight when we carved this. Mom was furious we'd defaced one of her prized maples."

The memory brought a dreamy smile to her face. Rodney couldn't help but smile too.

"Mom grounded me for a week. It seemed like an eternity back then." Handing over Molly's leash, she walked forward to caress the heart. Rodney felt an irrational stab of jealousy for eight-year-old Patrick.

"I wish you could have known her," Jennifer said. "She'd have loved you...almost as much as I do."

Yet another reason to be jealous of Patrick Moon—he'd had the privilege of knowing Misses Keller in the flesh, while Rodney had to make do with the myriad photos decorating the walls of the family home.

"Probably," Rodney said. "Keller women do find me irresistible."

Jennifer chuckled. "You and Mom had a lot in common. She ran jokes into the ground too."

Rodney pretended to be hurt, and Jennifer pretended to ignore him. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a folding knife. "This was Mom's. Patrick and I _borrowed_ it to carve our declaration. Why don't you correct it?"

Exchanging Molly's leash for the knife, a grinning Rodney positioned the blade on the scarred gray bark of the maple and gouged a single slanted line just beneath the bowl of the P. Closing the knife, he stood back to survey his handiwork.

The inscription now read, "JK + RM".

"Perfect," Jennifer declared. Molly barked her agreement.

**End**


	9. Better Off Part 1

MGM owns SGA.

Part 1 is 650 words.

**McKeller Flash Fiction:**

**Better Off**

**Part 1**

"I've always liked blue eyes. She has that going for her." Rodney McKay downed a healthy swig of beer. Too healthy. He drained the bottle. "Not saying yours aren't nice. They're about the nicest shade of brown I've ever seen."

The sudden rosiness in her cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol Jennifer Keller had imbibed. "Thank you, Rodney."

"I mean it. They're like this perfect chocolatey bourbon." His smile lingered a moment longer than might be proper among friends. "Anyway, they're nice."

"Thank you," she whispered.

A breeze swept through the balcony. Jennifer closed her eyes, allowing the sensation—like fingers running through her hair—to wash over her. When she glanced back, Rodney was staring at her with the most peculiar expression. She beamed.

Quickly looking away, he busied himself tidying up. The empty bottles he stashed in the cardboard sleeve and slipped the bottle caps into his pocket.

One beer remained unopened. By mutual compact these evenings never ended until they finished a six pack. He reached for the beer, but Jennifer beat him to it. Twisting off the cap, she indulged in a slow, lingering sip.

For an instant, she thought he might fight her for the beer. He had once, and before they knew it, they'd been on the balcony floor laughing and playfully wrestling. Both were red-faced when they came to their senses.

Rodney pulled back his sleeve to check the time. In response she stopped drinking.

"Fine," he said, covering his watch. He tried to sound angry but failed to hide his amusement. "What were we talking about?"

"Katie's eyes," Jennifer answered.

His smile faltered. "Katie?"

"Cute redhead. Works in botany. You're engaged to her."

"I know that," Rodney snapped. "I don't want to talk about her. Let's talk about us."

Jennifer's heartbeat quickened. "What about us?"

"We should find a project to work on. Together."

"And let you yell at me all day? No thanks." She nudged his shin with the toe of her sneaker. "I'd rather keep you as my drinking buddy."

"I would never yell at you, Jennifer."

"Rodney, the day you stop yelling is the day you stop caring."

Blushing, he nodded toward the beer. "Are you almost finished?"

Jennifer sighed. "You think Katie is getting worried?"

He shrugged. "I bet Ronon is. If I keep his girlfriend out much longer, he'll be after me with his blaster set on kill."

Both were standing then, gazing out toward the dark horizon. Jennifer turned around and held out the beer. When Rodney reached for it, she caught his hand and spun herself into his arms, pressing her back against his chest, as if they were dancing a tango.

"Je-je-jennifer," he spluttered. "What are you doing?"

Positioning his arm so they could both see his watch, she adopted an innocent tone. "See, it's past Ronon's bedtime. If I go anywhere, it's back to _my_ room. Alone."

She handed over the beer and sauntered to the door. "Hurry. I can't leave until you finish."

Rodney saw Jennifer safely home before heading in the direction of the quarters he shared with his fiancée. Usually Jennifer enjoyed their walks back nearly as much as their time on the balcony. This time she'd been plagued by the gut-churning notion that Rodney might have taken her comment about being alone as an invitation to join her. Equally troubling—the realization that she'd have welcomed his company.

She collapsed, fully-clothed, onto the bed with a groan. _You're playing a dangerous game, Keller. You have to stop._

A pair of framed photos decorated her bedside table. One depicted six-year-old Jennifer, missing front teeth and all, on her mother's lap mugging for the camera. The other showed Doctor Keller after her first successful off world mission excitedly hugging Rodney's arm. She was smiling just as broadly in that one.

_Stop?_ She didn't have the remotest idea how.

**TBC**


End file.
